


Amuse-gueule

by Ziane



Series: McHanji Week [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Incest, Jesse McCree is a big mouth, M/M, McShimadacest, Powerplay, Smut, They call Hanzo Young Master for something..., Yakuza Genji Shimada, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 00:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15327492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: The Shimadas capture Jesse McCree while he is working undercover for Blackwatch and they have an interesting proposition for him as long as he is willing to bend the rules he has known until now.





	Amuse-gueule

**Author's Note:**

> [Day 3] July 18th: ~~demons~~ / undercover
> 
> This is tagged as "Dubious Consent" in case you have missed it! Jesse McCree is tied up against his will and nothing that happens has been agreed between them.
> 
> Amuse-gueule literally means "mouth amuser" and it refers to a starter/appetizer.
> 
> Enjoy! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He has fucked up big time and McCree curses inwardly how naïve and reckless he has been around Genji Shimada. He thought he had the upper hand that he was luring him exactly where he wanted but the truth is the one blindfolded and tied up to a chair is him. Gabe will kill him if the Shimadas don’t. He has blown up his cover; he let his guard down -for a really pretty face, to be fair- and the worst part is that Genji attracted him like honey and he fell for it, for the kisses, the shameless flirting, the not so casual touches…

McCree groans and tests the ropes once more to no avail. He is there for the long run. Tilting his head back, he tries to recall the last thing he remembers. They were kissing, the little brat lured him hand in hand to the back of the club. He had a drink, maybe two. He pinned him to the concrete wall, bracketing the younger Shimada there. At first, he looked defenseless, a moan of pleasure leaving his mouth and clenching his stomach, then Genji smiled mischievously and he knew exactly what he wanted, or so he thought, as he palmed him through the trousers. The simple memory of it makes his cock twitch in interest. “Goddamnit,” he curses out loud though there is no one to hear him. Genji had welcomed his hand with a sway of his hips, rutting against him while the sultriest noises poured out of his mouth. McCree drank them all greedily, thrusting his tongue inside that sinful mouth that promised so many things.

Genji tasted sweet, forbidden, a thrill running through his veins at the mere thought of who he is. You could palpate the danger of touching Genji Shimada only to face Hanzo’s wrath. But McCree thought himself safe, in control, taking what he couldn’t even dream to own but that suddenly was so at his reach. Naïve.

After that, there was nothing more than a leather strap around his neck that tightened and patiently took the air from him. A faint giggle from Genji resounded on his ears, and the brat gripped his jaw with a firm hand and stared at him while he struggled to breathe. That is the last thing he remembers. Eventually, he lost consciousness, and McCree felt as though he was drowning in those black eyes glittering with lust, an impish spark revealing how stupid he has been, how careless.

“I fucked up,” he murmurs.

The cracking noise of a not so distant door bristles all the fibers in his body and he straightens, unconsciously tugging at the restraints once more. His senses are sharper though he cannot recall how much time has passed. Minutes? Hours? An insufferable pounding drums in his head as the telltale of a headache. Steps getting closer. Two pairs of steps. McCree opens his mouth to get more air to fuel his wits to get out of this situation alive. If that is still a choice.

A soft, tender hand touches his face and he flinches by instinct. “Easy there, cowboy.” The little brat is here, his betrayal doesn’t hurt as much as he thought, perhaps because he was also trying to play him. With all his body in tension, the harsh ties on his feet, securing his ankles to the chair legs are unbearable. He is so damn vulnerable even if they have trained him for this. Those long nights with Gabriel Reyes must have been for something. He gave him the tools to overcome situations like this: torture, interrogations, anything thrown at him. McCree smiles, so paid of himself now that he has found in his past training the strength to face this.

The same hands are now behind him, undoing the knot of his blindfold, but instead of removing it, the little brat pulls the ends and tilts his head back, mouth wide open as a gasp leaves unannounced. But another hand takes a handful of his hair and forces his head onward, the blindfold falling onto his lap unceremoniously. Fortunately, the room is dimly illuminated, and his eyes even used to the darkness, narrow and glare at the smug smile greeting him.

“What do we have here?” Hanzo asks, tightening the grip on his hair.

Dark and impenetrable, two doors to the unspeakable. A strand of onyx hair falls over his shoulder, unmanageable, and the older Shimada grants him an unnerving stare. McCree holds his gaze albeit his heart thumps so hard in his chest he can hear and sense every beat. Familiar hands drape over his shoulders reminding him of the presence behind him. That threatening look in Hanzo’s eyes has him pinned to the chair. There is no training that readies you for Hanzo Shimada, and when he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing obviously, the smug smile widens.

“Hello darlin’,” he says. “I’m pretty sure we haven’t met yet. The name’s McCree.”

Hanzo pulls at his hair, eliciting a groan but unable to erase the wolfish grin that follows and paints McCree’s face. He is determined to go through this with his pride. “I told you he is something else,” Genji says behind him, the same voice that lured him into this trap, so honeyed and tempting.

“Hey, sweetie,” McCree says following with his eyes the lean body that now stands beside his brother. “I thought we were having a good time.”

“How cute,” Genji teases, a finger tracing the outline of his jaw before he motions himself in front of Hanzo, leaning back on his chest. “What are we going to do with him?”

Hanzo releases the grip on his hair to tangle his arms around his brother’s waist, bringing him closer as he rests his chin on his shoulder, still glaring at him from above. A shudder of sheer fear clenches his stomach at the sight. “Whatever you want, Genji.” McCree swallows again, not daring to speak a word and feeling suddenly out of place, as though he was witnessing something private, intimate, not for him.

“Can we adopt him?” Genji teases and Hanzo chuckles, kissing his neck and up behind his ear. “He looks like a lost puppy.”

“I don’t know…” Hanzo says. “He seems like a wild dog, he might bite.” As he finishes the words, he clenches his teeth around his neck and Genji whines, writhing between his arms. McCree is aware of his ragged breath, adrenaline rushing through his veins telling him to run -he can’t- to hide -he wished- to stay far away from them or so very close they swallow him too. Something primal stirs in the air.

“What do you want?” McCree mutters. Hanzo gives him a blank stare, not amused by the interruption, and McCree curses inwardly, he should have kept his mouth shut. The Shimada carefully frees his brother from his embrace, resting a foot between his legs, wittingly pressing on the wood of the chair and not his naughty bits, though the gesture makes him flinch. “Woah, easy there, honey!” Hanzo leans forward, a hand on the back of the chair, getting so close he can scent him, his perfume, musky, woodenly, tainted with his brother’s essence.

“Are you all bark and no bite, McCree?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” McCree chuckles. “I'm all bite.”

“Hm,” Hanzo says with a sly smile, collecting a droplet of sweat from his temple, following it until it is soaked back into his hair. The touch of the leather glove on his skin sends a frisson through his body, and though he wants to escape those piercing eyes, he stares at them as if he could prove a point by doing so. “Time will tell. I want one thing from you.”

“Only one?” McCree jests, a half-smile masking his uneasiness.

“Maybe more than one,” Hanzo concedes, folding his arms over his knee, his feet sliding a little further in and definitely brushing his groin. McCree curses at the proximity, not trusting his body and taking a peek at Genji who watches them with a curiosity beyond words. “But first I want to settle something.”

“I’m intrigued,” McCree says, arching an eyebrow at him.

“You fell for it too easily for a double agent,” Hanzo teases, lifting his chin with leather-covered knuckles. “I know my brother is quite the temptation.” He turns his head around to glance at Genji, eyes gleaming with want. The atmosphere is so dense you can even hear the noises of Hanzo’s suit when he moves, Genji’s predatory movements behind his brother, and his own frayed breathing.

“I’m only human,” McCree says. “And he’s the prettiest peach I’ve tasted in a while.” He boldly winks at Genji and the little brat giggles. Hanzo straightens, his foot no longer menacing his apparently stand to attention cock.

“I like you too, Jesse,” Genji purrs, brushing his brother’s arm and snuggling against him until their lips touch, and they kiss. McCree’s eyes open wide, his jaw too, not that he can help it in front of such display of unexpected affection between the brothers. And it is not an innocent peck, it is a shameless lover’s kiss, open-mouthed, eager, Hanzo’s hand sliding low on the small of Genji’s back with clear intentions.

Hanzo finishes with a bite on his bottom lip and another kiss to make up for it. He also nods at his little brother who snickers and turns around to find his eyes again, sliding on his lap so casually it hurts. The lightweight of his slender body is oddly familiar, the close contact he craved so much earlier in the night seems that it comes with a price he isn’t sure he can pay yet. While Genji drums naughty fingers over his lips, McCree flicks his eyes to Hanzo who watches the scene more contented than upset. Then he understands the kiss, the subtle gestures and hidden language between them. Genji was asking for fucking permission. To what? He shivers just thinking about it.

“The perfect bait,” Hanzo says.

McCree opens his mouth to quip at that, harsh words ready to leave his mouth when that little hand palms shamelessly his groin and all his gallantry becomes a strangled grunt. Hanzo chuckles at his struggle, at his reddened cheeks and the involuntary jerk of his hips, pursuing the sensation. McCree wishes he had his handy hat to cover it all, but even though he is dressed, he feels naked.

“It’s a pity we got interrupted earlier,” Genji whispers, his warm breath puffing on his neck while his hand draws the outline of an increasingly harder length hoarding the room on his jeans.

“I ain’t the one to blame, sweetheart,” McCree stutters. Genji giggles when he finds how effortlessly he has got him hard by the friction of his hand over the thick fabric. “But if you’re gonna do that, you better do it smart right.”

The thing with threats is that you need to have the power to make them, and right now, tied up to a chair, a Shimada on his lap and another scrutinizing him from above, Jesse McCree has only the power to bite his tongue to muffle a desperate moan. But he is a big mouth and it wouldn’t be the first time he gets in trouble because of it.

“Do it right, Genji,” Hanzo says while a devilish grin stretches his lips. Genji literally squeals at the words, sitting on one of his legs while both his deft hands work his fly pry open.

The worst part of it all is that Jesse moans when his jutting erection isn’t restrained by the zipper. “Damn,” he curses, spreading his knees.

“Promising…” Genji murmurs, admiring the soaked fabric of his underwear, palming him through it, a thumb measuring his length and dipping at the tip.

“We could’ve done that at my place, darlin’,” McCree teases, nuzzling on the crook of his neck, daring a few kisses, a soft bite on that precious skin. He spots the indents of Hanzo’s bite there, clenches his teeth around it and, as he expected, the older Shimada is at his side, grasping a handful of his hair and denying him of his brother. Apparently, he is getting what Hanzo wants.

“You _do_ bite,” Hanzo says, turning McCree’s head around, eyes racked with disdain. Meanwhile, Genji has freed his length into the cold air of the room, the waistband of his boxers pressing right behind his balls. Uncomfortable, but it is not as though he can choose. “We will have to fix that.”

“Ya’ can try,” McCree says.

Things aren’t going how he expected. McCree thought they would beat him up, torture him, try to coax information from him, but as he stares into Hanzo’s deep eyes and Genji’s hand wraps around his hard cock, he wonders what can go wrong. How bad this can go if it is aimed at his pleasure. A satisfied cat smile grows wide on him as soon as Genji caresses him with long strokes, tugging at his length. He does just as good as he imagined, going slowly, taking his time, knowing where to squeeze, where to speed up his pace and how to slow it down. A spurt of clear beads run down his shaft and Genji praises the opportunity circling his thumb around the tip.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Hanzo asks, not allowing him to look down to Genji’s doing but up into his deep voids.

“Pretty much,” McCree says, though his ragged breath betrays him. “Such a nice torture you practice here in Japan.” Hanzo lets out a hearty chuckle that instead of amusing him, curls up his stomach, fear crawling up his spine in a thousand needles.

“Anija, please…” Genji pouts, demanding Hanzo’s attention for a moment.

“Go ahead,” Hanzo concedes, releasing the grip on his hair.

McCree can now see Genji crawling down his lap, kneeling on the concrete floor between his sprawled legs. His chest heaves uncontrollably, a part of him wants this to be a dream, and another wants it to be real, to go on, to let them do anything even though he knows this isn’t right, is it? Because that hard cock standing firmly against his stomach, smearing his shirt with pre-cum is a clear indicator that he is enjoying this a bit too much and has no intention to voice out his displease.

“I read you well enough,” Hanzo whispers into his ear, startling him.

“Ya’ know shit ‘bout me,” McCree quips, more horny than angry because suddenly the idea of Hanzo’s mouth around him is the only thing in his mind. That sharp tongue must be skilled, rough, merciless, and he wants to find out so badly his cock twitches in interest at the shameful thought. McCree even lets out a chuckle when he imagines Hanzo choking on his load.

Genji hums lovingly when he scoots closer into his lap, leaning forward to drag his lips from hilt to tip, gathering missing drops on his way up, smearing his lips on his essence and dipping his tongue outside to tease. McCree imagined he’d be like this, shameless, hot, willing to please, and a fucking damn tease.

“I know you do not want him to stop,” Hanzo says, a smugness in his words as much as his lips. “Tell him if you may.”

McCree mumbles a curse, avoiding his eyes and fixing his gaze on that warm mouth that wraps around him and sucks in earnest, so intently it draws a needy whine out of him. Hanzo cups a side of his face and jaw with soft leather fingers and McCree glimpses the blue shadow of a tattoo on his wrist before those eyes mesmerize him again. That’s when he realizes that he can’t. He isn’t even sure if they would stop if he’d ask but he can’t bring himself to do it. He doesn’t want to. Not when Genji’s mouth envelopes him, so wet and sinful, a twirling tongue brushing his underside, lips stretched by his girth moving up and down his length, a naughty hand nestling his balls.

Genji is too good to be true and all that pleasure coiling deeply down on him intensifies by Hanzo’s stare, by how he is reading every little twitch of his face, every grimace of pleasure. He swears he is taking his pulse point through the gloves by how he presses his fingers on a side of his neck. At one point McCree moans loudly, the head of his cock tapping the back of Genji’s constricting throat and the soft smile of Hanzo is a reward made in heaven, telling him how good he is, inviting him to do it again, to show him how much he likes it.

“He is good, isn’t he?” Hanzo says and follows with his eyes the bobbing of Genji’s head while he sucks McCree with no effort.

Hanzo licks his lips, and the gesture makes McCree whine, tug at the ropes again. They are harsh against his skin, scratching, constricting, his body so tense by the arousal and the situation itself that even if he were free, he’d be sitting there waiting to see what happens next. A thumb caresses his lower lip, he wished he could avoid those eyes, but he is fixed on them, distracted only by the wet noises Genji makes, by the vibration of his moans into his cock and the damn slow pace he has set, keeping him on edge but not quite enough to unleash the lingering pressure down his loins.

The leather smells good, new and exciting, and without thinking he lets his tongue out to taste the warmth on it, wishing he could drag his tongue over the skin underneath instead. It pleases Hanzo if the twitch on his lip and the deep growl is any sign of it. “Such a good boy,” he says, allowing him to take the thumb into his mouth.

McCree sucks at it with an urgency he will be ashamed of later, picking up the savor better there. It is bitter, the leather soft against his tongue, foreign. He has never had a glove in his mouth before tonight. Hanzo is intruding his innocence in more than one way. And McCree is thrilled, torn by it, pliant, sucking as if there was a cock in his mouth and not Hanzo’s thumb pressing demandingly his tongue, forcing open his jaw before he latches on it again. McCree lets him do it and gets a groan as a reward that mixed with the blow job of Genji could easily send him over the edge. And Hanzo reads that too.

“That is enough,” Hanzo hisses and like an instinct imprinted in his gens McCree stops sucking and a sly smile lets him see a line of predatory white teeth. The order wasn’t for him. Genji stops and he moans around the finger when he drags him out in a long leisurely slide of tight lips though he allows a flick of his tongue at the end to break the glistening trail joining them both. His cock bounces shiny and in disappointment against his stomach.

Genji fondles his thighs while standing up, his eyes still on the throbbing erection. “I will have to reward you later,” Hanzo praises and Genji’s eyes flick with lust. “What am I going to do with you?” Hanzo whispers, glancing at him, brushing back and forth his thumb along his tongue, not waiting for an answer. “I want to make a deal with Blackwatch and you will be my contact,” Hanzo says and McCree’s eyes open in surprise. “No more tricks. Tell your boss I want to meet.” Hanzo withdraws his finger, his hand now sliding down to grip a side of his neck, that thumb, black leather glistening in spit, caresses his throat gently. “You are free to go, but if you do not come back, I will fetch you.”

“Wha… what now?” McCree asks, glancing at Genji, arms folded over his chest, blushing cheeks but a confident smile built over swollen lips. Then back at Hanzo, a deep frown between his eyebrows that doesn’t match the mischievousness of his lips curled up. He is getting out of there alive, but at what cost? And above all, why he doesn’t even care about it except for the aching need to come and get rid of the hard, throbbing erection hoarding the blood in his body?

“We leave and someone will come to untie you,” Hanzo explains. “Or do you want something else?” McCree shudders at this subterfuge he got into for being reckless, at fucking Hanzo Shimada and his smug smile mocking him from above. “Because if you do, you only need to ask.” The words are tinted with power, control, a raspy voice that strokes his ears and hazes his judgment. He is intoxicating, and the worst part is that he is buying it. Leather, feathery fingers stroke his collarbone and down his chest. Suggesting, inviting, tempting.

“Want me to beg for it?” McCree huffs. “’Cause that ain’t happening.”

“I said ask, but you pleading for it must be quite the show,” Hanzo whispers, leaning forward until he puffs his breath close to his mouth, those eyes piercing his soul and destroying his resolve. McCree swallows, a cold sweat running down his back. “What is it going to be, cowboy? Are you going to stop this?” Hanzo leads a hand down his groin, soft leather gripping around the hilt of his cock, squeezing and stealing a needy whine.

“Damn it,” McCree curses, bucking his hips up to get more, avoiding his eyes. His cheeks burn red at every little twitch of those fingers. Just jerk me off and be done with it, he wants to shout, wants to yell, but that will only achieve blue balls. McCree is smart enough to know that.

“I guess that _ain’t_ happening either?” Hanzo mocks him, though his voice is soothing, and so is his sinful hand, twisting his wrist to give him something to hanker for.

“Please?” McCree says and chuckles, though his laugh dies in a moan.

“You can do better than that,” Hanzo whispers, his thumb, the one that not so long ago was on his mouth is now running up and down his cock, following an enlarged vein. His other hand traps his chin between his knuckles, forces him to look into his eyes. “You want this,” Hanzo says.

“Yes,” McCree confesses to himself more than to him. “Please.” He swallows his pride. The corner of his lip twitches upward and Hanzo wraps his hand around him, squeezing up, fisting the head to ease things and then jerks him off slowly, building up his arousal once more exactly to the point he wants.

“Right here and now,” Hanzo says. Every word is a death sentence because his hand is ungentle and firm. The leather feels good, enough to get him off this one time with his cock lubricated in spit and oozing pre-cum, and he fantasizes about the hand underneath, how would it feel, soft or rough? But when McCree realizes he is about to come, Hanzo slows down and he has to keep paying attention. “You are mine. I say when you come, your pleasure is my doing. It belongs to me, and I let you have it,” Hanzo hisses, their faces so close now he could kiss him if he dared -he does not-. McCree’s moans are the only interruption that Hanzo seems not to mind.

“Please,” McCree mumbles. “I… need to…”

Hanzo traces the tip of his cock with a teasing thumb, pressing unnecessarily on the slit, making him shudder and whine. “You should be scared, begging for your life and instead, you are begging for something so earthly as your own pleasure. Is it worthy, gunslinger?”

“If this is the only thing I’ll have before I die,” McCree pours the words into mouth. “I bet your ass it damn is.”

His answer pleases him because Hanzo strokes him again, this time faster, methodically and mechanically but oh so perfectly he is high from it, feet pushing his hips up to get more. No one told him to stay still. His arms hurt, his whole fucking body hurts at this point. This is torture indeed, sweet, heavenly torture. “Tell me once more,” Hanzo whispers into his mouth.

“P… please,” McCree stutters and he means it, begging with the tilting of his hips, watery eyes, out-of-control breathing. If Hanzo stops know he will cry out, heartbroken.

“Come for…” a loud groan interrupts Hanzo. A whole body shudder betrays McCree, a jolt of pleasure reverberating from the inside and overwhelming every fiber of his being.

McCree climaxes for what it feels like an eternity, spilling white spurts on his chest, pleasure washing through him and coming out in a desperate moan. His body trembles, tenses and relaxes only because of that demanding hand. McCree closes his eyes, but Hanzo rides out his orgasm, milking him dry, squeezing, gently, slowing down beautifully until the last spurt of cum drips pearlescent droplets down his knuckles. White in contrast with the black leather. McCree feels many things but one of them isn’t shame, not when words he cannot understand reassure him, not when tender fingers thread on his hair to pet him, not when that hand is still holding his softened cock. He pants into the room, the noise of his own breathing and beating heart muffling everything else. Everything but Hanzo’s next words.

“Good boy,” Hanzo whispers into his mouth and it curls up McCree’s stomach nice and warm even though he wants to tell him to go to hell.

Then again, it could have been seconds or minutes but when he opens his eyes, he sees a contented Hanzo, satisfied, that sly smile reflects on his eyes for the first time. He straightens, cleans his glove on McCree’s ruined shirt before he sighs. That’s when McCree sees the obvious swell in his trousers. Thick and long, jutting on a side. He stares at it more than he should, not knowing if it will piss Hanzo off or not. He got it all wrong. This was never about his own pleasure. This was something else, but then he looks up at Hanzo, Genji by his side again, a sweet smile and a wink just for him, as though he is an accomplice in his own little play.

“I can’t wait to ride the cowboy, anija,” Genji teases and Hanzo’s hearty laugh fills the room.

“He will have to be such a good boy to earn that,” Hanzo says and reaches for his brother’s lips once more. Genji doesn’t miss the chance and ghosts his fingers shyly over Hanzo’s own cock. And McCree stares, mouth dry and thirsty.

McCree isn’t sure if this is a dream or a nightmare, but he slumps back on the chair, weariness settling in his mind along with his body in a way he had never felt before. It is as though he were high for a damn hand job. He doesn’t even have the strength to voice out he is still in the room. He needn’t though, Genji walks behind him and unties his hands and then his ankles while Hanzo speaks. “You can stay at our house tonight, but you are free to leave whenever you want.”

He stands, fastening his jeans and doubting if he was ready for that yet, not trusting his wobbly legs. “What’s the catch?”

“First, I will take care of you,” Genji says, giving him a peck on his cheek that surprises him. “Sorry for the deception,” he whispers. McCree snorts and rolls his eyes at the little brat. After all, he’s been trying to get into his pants for the past week and McCree is soft down on him.

“You may not want to leave too soon, though, we have some issues to discuss,” Hanzo says, chuckling as he walks to the door and out of that austere room that will be forever printed in McCree’s brain.

“About that thing back there?” McCree says, pointing with his head at the abandoned chair.

“If you are interested,” Hanzo says with a cunning grin. “It was a mere amuse-gueule.”

He isn’t sure what has just happened, but he has the inkling that he has signed up for a meal in which he is the main course. As far as he is concerned, he is no longer tied up to a chair, the little brat promises to tuck him in -and God knows he needs a bath and a bed right now- and Hanzo, well, the day Hanzo Shimada isn’t a complete and utter mystery to him he’d be dead in hell. But then a very justified fear shrinks his heart when he follows the Shimadas. Will he ever want to leave? Tempting his luck, McCree brushes Genji’s arm to grab his attention and two glazing eyes turn around to him.

“You’re a little shit, did you know that?” McCree whispers, a half-smile on his face.

“And you like it,” Genji winks at him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little experiment, getting out of my comfort zone (barely no kisses/feelings wow *pat pat*) but I wanted to write dom!Hanzo for a while now.... definitely doing more of that in the future.
> 
> Thank you for reading !!! ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩
> 
> Continuation to this fic.... [La petite mort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15430341/chapters/35815815)


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